


Light One Candle

by flowersforgraves



Category: Valor Series - Tanya Huff
Genre: Gen, Ghost Stories, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29054877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersforgraves/pseuds/flowersforgraves
Summary: Sh'quo Company spends downtime telling ghost stories.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3
Collections: Bulletproof 20/21





	Light One Candle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mornelithe_falconsbane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mornelithe_falconsbane/gifts).



> I was hoping to put more ghosts in, but that's probably for next time I write for you.

The fire crackles, and in the quiet chill of the night, Hollice leans forward, grinning wickedly. “Sarge says we’re holed up here for the next couple days,” he says, “so you know what that sounds like to me? It sounds like it’s a good night for ghost stories!”

“Fuk you,” Haysole says lazily. He has an arm around Mysho, who is pressed close against Hollice’s shoulder, and is using his hair to flick ash from the fire away from his eyes. “You don’t have shit to say, you just make it up.”

Ressk snorts loudly from across the fire. “You can barely string words together on a good day, Haysole, I’d like to see you do better.” He snaps his teeth together to emphasize his point. Next to him, Mashona pulls her hand back from resting on his shoulder.

“Fuk you too,” Hollice says good-naturedly. “I guess you don’t wanna hear about the real reason I joined the marines then.”

Checya squints. “The real reason,” he says flatly.

“You mean you didn’t get fukkin’ swept up in fake ideals of patriotism like sad boy over here?” Mysho asks, laughing as she jabs a thumb in Checya’s direction. “And then get a harsh wakeup call day one of boot camp?”

“Fuk off,” Checya mutters. “So what’s the word, Hollice?”

“Well,” Hollice starts, “my family’s haunted.”

Mysho slaps him on the back of his head. “Fake patriotism sounds much more likely.”

He elbows her back. “Shut the fuk up and listen, yeah?The short version is, so, my great-greats on my mom’s side, they were into some real occulty shit. This was almost two hundred years ago, right, so it wasn’t like they didn’t know about nonhumans. But they got super involved with some real weird anti-alien stuff, and they tried to curse a bunch of their neighbors.”

“It’s not ghosts if they got their teeth kicked in,” Ressk interrupts. The Krai’s nostrils flare, but that’s the only indication of his temper, and he remains physically relaxed.

“I’m not fukkin’ dumb,” Hollice says with some asperity. “They cursed their neighbors, but something went wrong. After they did, they thought everything was gonna be fine for them, but weird shit started going on in the house. All the usual ghost stuff, with doors opening and sinks turning on and all that, weird sounds in the walls, but then there were other things happening. Their plumbing got all fukked up, their load of laundry was just gone one day despite sitting there the whole cycle, cold hands around their throats, all that shit. It got so bad they tried to move, but the problems followed. And then when they had kids, it started happening to the kids too.”

“That sounds like a story someone made up to scare children into behaving,” Haysole says. “You’re an idiot for believing it.”

Hollice grins. “See, ten years ago I would’ve said the same thing, except, _except_ , shortly before I joined up, I was awake at four in the morning. And I knew for a fact I was the only one in the apartment, ‘cause my sister was out and my mom was on a business trip and my dad works night shifts, and I heard someone walk up to my door.” He takes a sip from his canteen, and lets that sit for a brief moment. “The thing was, I know what the stairs sound like. I know which floorboards creak, I know what my family members’ shoes sound like. So this was someone I didn’t know outside my door. Being the idiot I was –”

“Still are,” Mashona mutters, and Ressk’s teeth flash in the light.

“Being the idiot I was,” Hollice repeats, leaning on the past tense perhaps a little harder than he needs to, “I got up and opened the door. I didn’t see anyone there, but I did get this cold wind rush into my room. I went back to bed, and then I just kept hearing someone pacing around my room. It got to the point where I had the light on and was sitting up and couldn’t sleep ‘cause I was so freaked out.”

“And that’s the ghost,” Mysho says doubtfully.

“That’s not quite the end of it,” Hollice says. “I had something similar happen almost every night for two weeks. It only stopped when I joined up. After I was done with boot camp, I finally got around to telling my mom, and she said that apparently, the ghost likes to haunt our family members until they find something to do with their life. And that’s how I enlisted to get away from the ghost that’s been haunting my family for two centuries.”

Checya rolls his eyes. “Fuk, Hollice, that all you got? Lemme tell you about La Llorona. She’s an old ghost story, dates back to Earth times, and I heard her once.”

“Heard her? Not even saw her?” Ressk asks.

Checya nods seriously. “If I saw her, with as close as I was, I’d probably have been dragged into the river. She’s supposed to be a human woman with long hair in a white dress, and she walks along roads and riverbanks crying because her child drowned. She looks for people who are walking alone and drags them into the river to be with her.”

“Oh, I’ve heard about her,” Hollice says. “I like her.”

Checya stares at him blankly. “You _like_ her?” he asks incredulously. “She’d kill you in an instant!”

Haysole jumps to his feet, cutting Checya off. “This is fukking bullshit!” he exclaims. “All of this! None of you really know what scary stories are, so as soon as Checya’s done with his woo-shit creepy whatever, I’m gonna tell you a _real_ scary story. Mysho’s probably heard it, it’s a pretty common Taykan story, but it’s better than a ghost that haunts you until you get a job.”

“Wait your fukking turn, asshole,” Checya says. “I’m in the middle of talking. Sit the fuk down, shut the fuk up, and maybe I won’t draw this yarn out forever.”

“I’ll go after,” Ressk says, using one foot to unscrew the cap on the flask of whiskey and pass it around. “Ghost stories it is.”


End file.
